


Love Like You Deserve

by xxenjoy



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Rimming, Top Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25072543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxenjoy/pseuds/xxenjoy
Summary: When Geralt finds himself wanting more than he's obliged at the brothel, Jaskier steps in to help.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Other(s)
Comments: 51
Kudos: 707





	Love Like You Deserve

**Author's Note:**

> So the first time I went to Passiflora in the Witcher 3, I tried to talk to the male prostitute (the one with the cute bows on his pants) and he told me to piss off. This happened.

Geralt hates Novigrad. The people here are short-sighted and stubborn and don't care to learn any way than their own. Which means it's a bad place for anyone who's different - especially a Witcher. Even the Elves here hate him. The dwarves are a little better, but Geralt puts that down to Zoltan's influence rather than any learned compassion. 

Today, the entire city could burn around him and Geralt would probably smile. It's the first day they've been back in civilization in weeks, which is the only reason they're in Novigrad to begin with. Oxenfurt is an extra day's travelling and both he and Jaskier are in need of a bath and a warm meal that doesn't taste like smoke. And good company, if he's lucky. Jaskier, he knows, will be gone for the night - it's easy enough for him to find a bed to warm in any city they visit - but Geralt is already dreading his visit to the brothel. 

Passiflora is the only place that will take him any more, and then he's sure it's only because he and Jaskier know Marquise Serenity personally. He's been told in no uncertain terms that he's not welcome in the others. On occasion, there will be a lone girl waiting at the Golden Sturgeon, but it's always a gamble whether she's a prostitute or a pickpocket in disguise. 

And if, by chance, he's welcomed inside, it's always a toss-up whether any of the girls will take him, then even less likely is that he'll get what he really wants. Geralt can't even count how many years he's been settling for sex that's only halfways satisfying - and paying for it, at that. Because those who do show an interest - falsified, or no - take one look at his cock and want to ride it or want him to fuck them with it and Geralt takes what he can get. He never asks for a man and he never asks anyone to fuck him, even though he'd be willing to pay extra for it. 

But these past few weeks have been exhausting and the wear of being achingly aroused every night and not finding any satisfaction is getting old. He wants and he's not getting it from where he wants, so he'll try his luck at the brothel. 

It doesn't go well. 

He's had his eye on someone since he walked in - a slim, dark-haired man with bright eyes and bows on his trousers. When Geralt arrived, he was talking animatedly with another man and something about him reminds him of Jaskier. He shouldn’t approach for that exact reason, but he wants to. If he can’t have what he really wants, this is the next best thing.

He's only just approached the young man when a firm hand closes around his bicep. Geralt turns, instinctively ready to defend himself and the guard backs down.

"Only the women," he warns and Geralt sighs. They're protecting their men, he knows; he can't imagine a lot of men who fuck men are gentle when they're paying for it. In fact, he's heard stories first hand, so he can hardly blame them. And when a raven-haired woman approaches, stroking his arm and promising to take care of him, Geralt relents yet again. 

She's soft under him and fucking her is better than his hand alone, but it's nothing like what he wants. It doesn't last long and Geralt makes sure she comes before he leaves, but as he heads out into the street he's feeling worse. 

He resigns himself to another night of lying awake wondering who Jaskier is with this time - if he's lucky. If he's not, he won't have to wonder. Inn walls aren't thick and it's nothing for him to pick up on Jaskier's voice after years of attuning himself to it. Another reason he doesn't like towns; he's nearly always forced to listen to Jaskier getting off with whichever lucky bastard catches his eye. 

It could be him, he thinks sometimes, but even Jaskier isn't that tolerant. He would probably be disgusted if he knew the things Geralt thought about him, the things he does lying awake and listening to him fuck someone else. And Geralt couldn't blame him for any of it. Shame and guilt rise in him even thinking about it now. 

Guilt-ridden and miserable, Geralt makes his way back to the inn. At least he won't have to worry about Jaskier finding out about this because he'll be off somewhere else finding his own enjoyment. It's not that he would mock him for striking out, but sometimes Jaskier's protectiveness of him is overbearing when Geralt would rather just forget about something altogether. And this is definitely one of those things he'd like to pretend never happened. 

The innkeeper follows him with his eyes as Geralt makes his way up to their room and he's acutely aware of the impact Jaskier's presence has on his life. No one trusts him without the bard at his side to sweet talk them and convince them that Geralt isn't a threat. Alone in a city, he feels unprotected and open and raw. Even the walk to their room feels far further than it did this afternoon. 

But when he shoves the door in and stomps into the room, Jaskier is sitting there waiting for him. Alone, which is unexpected. 

"Geralt?" he asks, "Is everything alright?"

Fuck. This is the last thing he wanted to happen. He was so sure Jaskier would be out enjoying himself that he never planned for the eventuality that he would just be here. 

"Fine," he mumbles, dropping onto the stiff mattress. What he wants now is a hot bath and sleep, not an interrogation, but neither a bath nor sleep seems likely now. After a moment, Jaskier comes and settles behind him on the bed. 

"Did they turn you away?" he asks gently. 

Geralt huffs but can't bring himself to turn around as he mumbles a no. It's not a lie, not when there are times he's been barred from entering brothels altogether. Behind him, Jaskier huffs, clearly unimpressed and Geralt is expecting him to launch into one of his rants about respecting Witchers, but he doesn't. Instead, Jaskier's hands come up to hover above his shoulders. 

"Can I?" he asks and Geralt grunts in lieu of response. Jaskier takes it as a yes, sliding his hands over Geralt's shoulders with a hum of disapproval. His fingertips press into a knot and Geralt forces himself to relax as Jaskier works it out. 

"Was it the woman you saw then?"

"No," Geralt says a little too quickly before realizing that's not going to be a good enough answer for Jaskier. "She was fine."

"Fine isn't good, Geralt. Especially when you're paying for good. Was she too handsy?" he asks. 

Geralt can feel the irritation creeping up his spine and he wants to rip out of Jaskier's hands and flee from the room. He wants to leave the inn altogether and forget and Jaskier would be okay here if he left and went to sleep in the forest tonight. It's a bit of a walk, but with Roach he could find somewhere to sleep before it gets too late. 

Jaskier's hands lift from his shoulders and Geralt turns to look at him.

"Too timid?" Jaskier suggests. 

Geralt looks away. Even if he could find the words to tell Jaskier what went wrong, he wouldn't. How do you tell someone you wanted to fuck a man who reminded you of them, regardless of how the situation went down. He still wanted it, still wanted _Jaskier_ , but was willing to settle for the next best thing.

"You can tell me," Jaskier whispers and Geralt can feel his body shift closer so he's almost right against him. Geralt's shoulders slump and he can feel the fight leave him. 

"Nothing really," he mumbles, "just not what I wanted." Even as he's saying the words, he curses himself for being too candid with Jaskier, but the idiot bard has a way of pulling things out of him whether he wants to admit it or not. 

"Anything I can help you with?" he offers. Geralt's breath catches and he's certain it's obvious enough that Jaskier can hear it. Geralt says nothing. "Whatever it is you're after, I promise you it's not new to me." 

Even in Geralt's wildest fantasies, he's never considered outright asking Jaskier for what he wants. But Jaskier's voice is so soft and genuine in his ear and right now, a small part of him wants to. It's been so long and Jaskier is offering. But he can't and he won't. 

Jaskier, however, is not one to give up so easily. 

The hands on Geralt’s shoulders slip forward, playing along his collarbone over the fabric of his shirt and Geralt does his best not to let it get to him, but it's hard. Jaskier's touch has always been a curse for him, softer and kinder than he deserves and yet something of a constant in his life, doing his best to test Geralt's patience and resolve. And he's treading into dangerous territory here. Geralt is already pent up and frustrated and likely to do something stupid to keep Jaskier from touching too much. 

Jaskier is his only friend and Geralt won't betray that trust under any circumstances; he can't bear to lose the one person who treats him like a regular man. But Jaskier has never been one for worrying about things like sex and the consequences of who you sleep with and maybe-. No. He can’t. 

"Tell me what you want darling, I'll be happy to help. Do you want me to touch you?" Geralt's pulse quickens but he says nothing. He doesn't want to encourage this and he knows Jaskier will only go so far without his explicit permission. "I could use my mouth. I'm very good with my mouth."

Geralt has no doubts about that and his blood rushes south remarkably quickly at the prospect. He's overheard Jaskier's lovers praising his mouth and he knows for a fact that Jaskier can make a man come with his tongue alone. And that's an incredibly tempting prospect. 

"Or if you don't want me to touch you, I could talk you through it," he pauses and Geralt can feel Jaskier's breath against his ear, hot and damp as he leans in and whispers, "I know you're good at taking instructions." Fuck. 

Jaskier's voice vibrates through his body and Geralt has to try harder than he should to keep from reacting. When he doesn't respond, Jaskier continues. His hands fall from Geralt's shoulders, settling on his hips. 

"Or maybe that's not what you want," he muses, slipping his hands up Geralt's sides, "I know you like being touched, even if you pretend not to, hm? Maybe you could fuck me. Would you like that?" Geralt's breath is unsteady despite his best efforts, his traitorous cock pressing hard against his thigh. 

"Gods, I bet you'd fuck me so well, wouldn't you?" Jaskier hums and brings his hands around to Geralt's back, sliding up to his shoulders. His thumb brushes against Geralt's neck and Geralt's eyes drop shut. Any given day, he thinks, if Jaskier genuinely wanted him to, he would. But this isn't like that and Geralt is stronger than his desires. 

"Geralt," Jaskier chides, the soft lilt in his voice replaced with soft frustration. "You don't have to hold back like this. It's just me," he adds, softer again. "After everything we've been through, this would hardly be a hardship for me.”

“I know you,” he continues, his voice a light hum, “you get all quiet when I’m right. When you want something but you don’t think you deserve it.”

But- Geralt thinks, and Jaskier shifts behind him, pulling his mind back to the present. Geralt finds himself leaning when Jaskier pulls away, seeking the warmth of his chest. There's a light huff of a laugh and then Jaskier is behind him again, thighs pressing in on either side of Geralt's hips, hot breath in his hair. On his knees, Geralt realizes. 

"What if I fuck you?" Jaskier asks, fingers slipping around the front of Geralt's neck to tip his head back. Unbidden, a soft sound escapes Geralt's throat and it doesn't escape Jaskier's attention. "Oh. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Mm, darling, I bet you'd make the sweetest sounds with my cock inside you. You'd look so pretty laid out for me- or maybe I'd have you in my lap so I can see your face."

Geralt can feel his composure slip with every word as Jaskier describes in detail all the ways he would fuck him. This isn't normal, he realizes, and maybe it is just Jaskier being himself and being very liberal about who he has sex with, but Geralt doesn't have sex with his friends. Well, he tries not to. Currently, Jaskier is making it difficult for him to say no, even if he knows he should. 

And Jaskier is still mumbling against his ear all the filthy things he wants to do to him- and Geralt's thoughts come to a halt at that. The idea that Jaskier wants any of this is absurd to him and yet. Jaskier huffs softly against the side of his neck , pressing his nose behind Geralt's ear. His hands slip over his hips, down his thighs to push them apart and his hand is so close to his cock. If he moved, even just an inch, Jaskier's thumb would rub against him, but he knows if that happened, it would be the end of any discussion. 

"Jaskier," he breathes. His head drops back against Jaskier's shoulder inadvertently. Already, he's barely in control of his own body and he realizes somewhere deep in the back of his mind that he wouldn't lose control so easily if he didn't want this so badly. 

"Tell me," Jaskier hums, skirting the bulge of Geralt's erection with his thumb, "I'll give you anything you want. Or tell me no and I'll stop." Somehow, the prospect of Jaskier's hands leaving him is worse than whatever repercussions they might face otherwise. 

Jaskier's nose presses against the back of his head and Geralt can't find the words to tell him no, wouldn't want to if he could. When Jaskier's fingers brush over his cock, Geralt groans out loud. Jaskier is pressed right against his back now, and he drops his head, nosing at Geralt's neck.

"What do you say, darling? Do you want that?" he pushes his hands down Geralt's stomach, hesitating at the hem of his trousers to give him a chance to say no. A chance to stop this. But Geralt is too far gone now to think about telling him no and Jaskier's hand is a soft relief where it slips down to palm over his clothed cock. 

Geralt grits his teeth and bites his tongue as Jaskier squeezes around him; he's not used to being in a place where he's comfortable making too much noise, and most of his lovers prefer him quiet anyway. But Jaskier is different and Geralt should have known. 

"You don't have to try so hard, Geralt. You don't have to hold back any longer, it's just me and I want to hear you." He presses his lips to Geralt's neck and lifts his hands to tug at his shirt. 

Jaskier makes quick work of getting him out of his clothes and once Geralt is naked, and only feeling a little bit exposed, he lays down on his stomach. But Jaskier quickly eases his discomfort, climbing back up on the bed and settling himself between Geralt's legs. His hands run up the backs of his thighs and Jaskier sighs. 

"I was right," he hums, "you look so good like this." His hands move up, squeezing Geralt's ass and his cock aches under him. Jaskier's fingers are so close to where he wants them, just one little move and he could be inside him. 

Then all at once, he's gone and. Geralt looks up and finds him crouched over their packs, digging through one of them until he pulls a small bottle out and rises to his feet. 

Geralt has seen him naked before, of course, it's inevitable when you travel with someone for as long as they have. But this is different. Jaskier is hard, first of all, which isn't something Geralt expected to have quite the effect on him that it does. His cock juts from his body, curling up like an invitation and Geralt has never wanted to touch someone so badly in his life. 

Jaskier catches him watching and crosses back toward the bed. One hand drops to Geralt's ass, squeezing firmly before slipping up his back. He pushes Geralt's hair back from his face, brushing his fingers down his cheek and smiles at him. 

"How could anyone not love you?" he whispers, taking in Geralt's confused expression, "you're so beautiful. So good for me, Geralt." Geralt's eyes snap up to his immediately. Oh, that's something. Jaskier just grins at him and climbs back up onto the bed behind him. 

Geralt turns his face into his pillow as soft lips press against his calves. He stiffens at the intimacy of it, but Jaskier soothes him with soft touches and even softer kisses that creep slowly up the backs of his legs. When he reaches the swell of his ass, Jaskier’s fingers dig into his skin, squeezing and pushing Geralt's cheeks apart. Geralt's done this before with other men who meant significantly less to him than Jaskier does, so he's not quite sure what makes him anxious about it now. Maybe because it's been so long since or maybe because this is a huge step in their relationship that he never would have made otherwise. 

But whatever it is, Jaskier is efficient at helping him relax again, leaning over and breathing soft words into his ear. Geralt knows he doesn't deserve them, that Jaskier is just trying to placate him, but when Jaskier’s cock settles against the back of his thigh, Geralt can almost believe it. Tentatively, he pushes back against him, letting Jaskier's cock slip between his thighs and he gets an appreciative groan in response. Jaskier drops his head, pressing a kiss between Geralt's shoulders. 

"That's it, love." 

Jaskier runs his hands down his back, settling again between his knees and Geralt feels his breath before anything else, hot against his skin. Then Jaskier's mouth is on him and Geralt sinks into the bed, pressing his hips back. He feels the huff of Jaskier's laugh, but it doesn't stop him from running his tongue over him, pressing against his hole. Geralt moans despite himself, trying hard to remember that he doesn't have to be quiet. 

It proves to be difficult as Jaskier's tongue pushes into him and the sounds fall from his lips unbidden. But he's allowed, he reminds himself, no one is going to hear him but Jaskier and he's safe here with Jaskier. 

His tongue pushes deeper and Geralt's thighs part seemingly of their own volition to give him better access and Jaskier appreciates it if the way he hums around Geralt's hole is any indication. It spurs him forward if nothing else and Geralt's cock jerks beneath him, neglected and aching. 

When Jaskier gets his fingers involved, he goes slow at first, running one slick finger around his hole before pushing in. And Geralt groans into the pillow. One of Jaskier's fingers is the same damn size as his tongue and he tells him exactly that. Jaskier just huffs and kisses his back, pushing his finger into him before drawing back and adding a second. But Geralt is already keyed up beyond words and he doesn't have the patience for slow and steady. He pushes his hips back with a needy moan and Jaskier doesn't hold back.

He slicks both fingers and pushes into him, thrusting a couple of times before pushing deep and seeking out that spot inside him. Geralt shudders with the first pass of his fingers and Jaskier is persistent, rubbing up and thrusting against that spot until Geralt is arching off the bed, hair damp with sweat and sticking to his skin. 

"Fuck Geralt," Jaskier breathes, readjusting to lean on his elbow. He bites the flesh of Geralt's ass and kisses the marks from his teeth. "You have no idea what you do to me," he huffs, his words muffled by Geralt's skin, "I can't believe no one will have you like this, you look so good, so good for me."

"You don't mean that," Geralt mumbles, but Jaskier climbs up over him, his fingers still buried as deep as they'll go and he presses his mouth to the back of Geralt's neck. 

"I do. You're beautiful," he breathes, "you're a good man, Geralt. You're soft and kind and caring, even if you pretend not to be. And you deserve to know that. You deserve so much more than what you get out of life. Let me give it to you."

Geralt is torn between horrific embarrassment and a surge of arousal because if anyone's opinion actually matters to him, it's Jaskier's. Something warm blooms in his chest and he sighs as Jaskier kisses his neck. 

"Let me show you how much I want you," he hums. He withdraws and thrusts in again, quickly picking up the pace until Geralt is moaning obscenely under him, canting his hips into the mattress because he can't help himself any longer. All the while, Jaskier's voice is in his ear, whispering sweet things that he wants so badly to believe.

"Beautiful," he whispers, "perfect. Mine." The last one slips out much more quietly than the rest and Geralt isn't sure he's supposed to hear it but it does something to him that he can't quite explain. And more than ever, he wants to be good for Jaskier, wants to be soft and kind and beautiful and more than that, he wants to be his. 

Never once does Geralt ask for anything, but Jaskier seems to know exactly what he wants and Geralt might think he was reading his mind if he didn't know better. He doesn't let up until Geralt's panting turns to muffled warnings, his hips pressed up impatiently.

"Jask-" he mumbles and Jaskier hums against him, panting hard. 

"Do you want to come like this?" he asks. 

"Want your cock," Geralt huffs and Jaskier lets out a low, desperate groan against his shoulder. 

"Fuck, I've waited a long time to hear you say that." Jaskier's fingers slip from his body and he grips Gerlt's hips with both hands. Breathing hard, he kisses his way down Geralt's back, sitting back to kneel between his thighs. He shuffles for a moment before pressing his cock into the cleft of his ass and Geralt thrusts his hips back in his impatience. 

Jaskier's cock feels better than it has any right to and Geralt knows he shouldn't be so needy when Jaskier is trying to help, but he's waited so long for this. And he's wanted Jaskier for even longer than that. Jaskier slicks him up with two fingers before working over his cock. Geralt can hear the slick slide of skin on skin and he turns to try and see him, craning his neck, but all he can see is Jaskier's arm moving. He grumbles in disappointment, but Jaskier just pushes his cheeks apart and presses between them. 

His cock is slick and hard as it presses into Geralt's body and he shuts his eyes, arching his back with a soft groan. Jaskier gives him a moment to adjust but Geralt takes him easily, lust and impatience winning out over caution and he rocks his hips back onto Jaskier before he's even fully inside. 

"Oh, fuck," Jaskier gasps. He surges forward, catching himself with one hand as the other smoothes up Geralt's spine. "You really wanted this, didn't you?"

Heat prickles at the back of Geralt's neck and he’s thankful for his hair covering the only part of his face that isn't pressed into the pillow. He shouldn't want this, shouldn't want Jaskier, but-

"Why didn't you just ask me?" He asks. Geralt grumbles at him and Jaskier leans low over him. "Don't be embarrassed, love, you're incredible like this." He presses his nose to Geralt's ear, humming softly. "I've never wanted you more." 

He gives a quick thrust of his hips and a whole other kind of heat licks up Geralt's spine. Just the thought that Jaskier wants him at all, in any context is enough to have him breathless, but then Jaskier pushes all the way into him and Geralt very nearly whimpers. Then he pulls out completely and Geralt leans up to look at him, worried he did something wrong. 

But Jaskier has his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and the look he gives Geralt is hot and oddly possessive. He shuffles back out of the way of Geralt's legs and gently nudges his hip, gesturing for him to roll over. And Geralt isn't about to deny him anything when he looks like that, so he readjusts, propping himself up on his arms. He doesn't miss the way Jaskier's eyes roam over his body before he's shuffling close again, shoving his knees under Geralt's thighs and pressing him back against the mattress. 

This time, when Jaskier sinks into him, he doesn't hesitate and Geralt's glad to be on his back where he can watch Jaskier's face as he squeezes around him. Jaskier keeps one hand on Geralt's hip as he rocks into him, using the other to map out his chest and waist, fingers slipping lightly over places Geralt didn't even realize were sensitive like that. But what's worse is his voice, constantly telling Geralt how good he is and Geralt wants so badly to believe him. The words sear through him like hot iron and he thought that with all his training and composure it would take more than a couple of words to take him down, but he's learning he was very wrong about that. 

Jaskier falls into an easy rhythm, his words equally as arousing as the cock slipping in and out of him, and Geralt reaches for him, aching to touch. Jaskier wraps both arms around his waist and hauls him up into his lap, letting the fingers of one hand slip down to where his cock presses into Geralt's body. Geralt just looks at him with wide eyes and Jaskier grins back at him. 

"I'm stronger than I look," he whispers. He shifts under Geralt and gives a sharp thrust of his hips, hitting that spot inside him again and Geralt drops forward against him, pressing his head into Jaskier's shoulder. 

"Oh," he moans, shifting to wrap his legs around Jaskier's waist. 

"Good?" Jaskier asks and Geralt huffs a muffled _mmhm_ , reaching back to brace himself on Jaskier's knees. "Good. So good for me." He slips his hands down to Geralt's hips, holding him steady as he rocks up into him and Geralt lets himself relax into it. 

Jaskier doesn't expect anything from him, wants to fuck him, wants to make him feel good and Geralt lets him for maybe the first time in his life, surrendering control entirely to someone else. Because he trusts Jaskier and because Jaskier does make him feel good, mumbling that he's doing so well and just like that, darling. And when he gets his hand down between them, clever fingers winding around his cock, Geralt almost comes undone right there. His hips buck hard into the dry heat of Jaskier's palm, shaky as he withdraws and pushes forward again with intent. 

Jaskier pauses then leans forward over him, pressing their foreheads together. The angle is awkward, and a little uncomfortable, but Jaskier lays him down again, stroking him slowly as he works his hips quickly. Jaskier holds him down and fucks him hard, snapping his hips hard as Geralt mumbles into his neck, nearly incomprehensible. When Geralt comes it's with soft wine, too overwhelmed for anything more than that. 

Jaskier continues, fucking him through the aftershocks, pressed up against Geralt's chest with his legs around his ankles. And when he comes, he presses his face into Geralt's shoulder and Geralt runs his fingers through his hair, still unable to speak. 

After a moment, Jaskier pulls out and Geralt shifts a little unwilling to admit how much he dislikes losing the feeling of Jaskier's cock inside him. He's not entirely sure what to do with himself now because this was never supposed to happen between them. It was a fantasy - a very far-fetched one, at that - and yet, here they are, Jaskier sweaty and panting next to him and so beautiful Geralt can't help but smile despite his bewilderment.

He's trying to consider what to say - should he thank him? - when Jaskier pushes himself back into a sitting position and moves to lift Geralt's head gently into his lap. He brushes his fingertips along his cheek, runs his fingers through his hair, and Geralt finds himself worrying less. His eyes are heavy, his body still thrumming with a pleasant numbness and Jaskier's fingers are soothing.

"You can sleep," Jaskier whispers, "I've never minded if a lover falls asleep on me, just means they enjoyed themselves." 

A lover. Geralt turns the words over in his head and decides he likes the way they fit. Likes the idea of being Jaskier's lover. Blinking up at him, Geralt reaches up, curling his fingers around the back of Jaskier's neck and guiding him down. It has to be an uncomfortable angle for Jaskier, but he doesn't complain or pull back and when their lips brush together, he lets out a soft little sound and shifts to adjust his position. His mouth is soft and wanting and his fingers slip around the back of Geralt's head to keep him close. 

And then, seemingly in an instant, it's over and Geralt is left staring up at him, unsure all over again. But Jaskier smiles at him and brushes his thumb over Geralt's cheek. 

"You really are so beautiful," he mumbles, as though to himself. "I don't deserve you." Geralt huffs and turns away from him, but Jaskier just tips his head back. "I want you to know you can ask me for anything. I wish you'd come to me earlier, you shouldn't have to suffer because of the ignorance of others."

"I'm not going to do that to you-"

Jaskier laughs, soft and gentle. "Do that to me?" he asks incredulously, "darling I've been waiting my whole life to hear you say you want me. You could come back every night and climb into bed with me and I'd still want more."

He's not sure why exactly, but Geralt blurts out, "he reminded me of you."

"What?"

"The whore. The reason I was... irritable when I came back. They wouldn't let me talk to him, but he reminded me of you."

"Oh? You went to a prostitute who reminded you of me?" Geralt mumbles but doesn't confirm nor deny. "Geralt I love you, truly, but you are a bit daft sometimes. Why on earth wouldn't you just come to me in the first place."

His heart beats much faster than it should and Geralt does everything he can to ignore the nonchalance with which Jaskier says he loves him - because the idea is absurd. "I didn't think you'd want me."

"I've wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you, all dark and moody in your corner." He flashes a smile and Geralt turns away to keep from saying too much. Jaskier ducks down and kisses his cheek. "But sleep now, we can talk about it in the morning."

Geralt forces back the urge to protest, to assure Jaskier that he's wrong about him. But he knows it wouldn't do him any good and Jaskier is persistent - maybe there is something to the things he's always saying. Geralt settles, lets the stress seep out of his body as Jaskier's hands move over his shoulders. He shuts his eyes but still manages to pull Jaskier down into a soft, slow kiss. 

It lasts longer this time. Jaskier doesn't pull away despite the discomfort he must be feeling and if anything, when Geralt hesitates, when he gives him a chance to stop, Jaskier presses forward. And Geralt thinks, as Jaskier's tongue sweeps over his bottom lip, that if the next couple of days are like this, the rest of their stay in Novigrad might not be so bad.


End file.
